Hela On Earth

11-Wonderful Destruction

Chapter 11: Wonderful Destruction

The wrenching sound was coming from another overturned taxi a distance away. Was someone stuck under there? I had to help them.

But when I arrived, I couldn't see anyone. Cringing, waiting to see a bloody body in the car, I bent down. Nothing. I couldn't have imagined it, could I?

"Look at this," A voice said, rather optimistically. My breath hitched in my throat as I whirled around. A man, dressed in Asgardian-like clothes, stood smiling down at me. His eyes were a piercing blue, like the Caribbean Sea, but cold and unforgiving. His skin was blueish-gray, almost like Loki's when he turned blue. "Look at all this wonderful destruction your father has caused. Aren't you proud of him?"

"No. Who are you? I hope you realized that Loki lost, I bet the Avengers are going to go get him right now."

The man laughed a boisterous-menacing laugh. "I didn't lose. This is just want I wanted. Destruction, and you, here in my grasp."

"You're a creep! Who are you?" I growled. We stood for a moment, glaring each other.

"Thanos, you insolent creature!" He snapped. Thanos, it sounded familiar. But he was a creepy man to the fifth degree. Maybe time was frozen, because everything was so still.

Then I kicked him in the groin and ran, but I didn't get far. His arm hit me with such force I was thrown up and over, before toppling to the ground. Later, I found out that I bounced a couple times, head over heels. I tried to pull myself up, but every bone in my body felt broken and bruised. I could only roll onto my back and stare at the sky. Everything was spinning, and blurry. I thought I saw someone near me, but all I could make out was a strange, blueish-purple color. Closing my eyes, I fell into a deep, tranquil sleep, and I didn't wake up.

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From a rectangular window, he could watch her sleep motionless, dreamless, thoughtless. A petite, weak, limp body was lying in a bed, needles keeping her alive, tracking her every energy wave. They had cleaned her up the best they could, back and neck braces, antiseptic, casts, anything, but she remained in a deep unconsciousness. She had been like this for days. It was as if she was dead, the way she slept. Her chest would barely move, although she was breathing, and her skin was pale, and ice cold. Dark, short hair framed her face, and green-silver eyes were hidden by her eye lids.

"You think she'll ever wake up, Doc?" He asked. The doctor shrugged, her spotless white lab coat standing out in the tan and rusty red painted room.

"I hope so. She so young, so much potential. If we could teach her control, we could send her back to her family by next summer." The man nodded, one hand resting behind his neck. So many people like this, outcasts, dangerous, afraid. He wanted to help them all. "Don't worry, Lincoln. She's not the worst one I've seen."

As the doctor left, he noticed her stir a tiny bit. Then he walked away.